


you stand in my light, I'll stand in yours

by philthestone



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Gen, and if you're even THINKING the word incest I'm gonna smack you, flangst out the wazoo, sibling trash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-21
Updated: 2015-02-21
Packaged: 2018-03-14 10:39:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3407555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/philthestone/pseuds/philthestone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Sever their bond, you must," says Yoda, and Obi-Wan stares at the two bundled babies in the cot and feels a small part of his already-shattered heart fall away completely. </p><p>But then, the Force is not one to heel to the beck and call of the Jedi - and Master Yoda has, if only momentarily, forgotten this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you stand in my light, I'll stand in yours

**Author's Note:**

> I've always been utterly captivated by Luke and Leia's relationship in the films and how, disregarding a single moment of a deleted scene, every single on of their interactions seems to building up the big Sibling Reveal. Not only do I love Leia's "Somehow I knew. I've always known," I also keep thinking that the little kisses that Leia gives Luke all the damn time are done so casually and easily that they remind me of the kisses I'd give parents or siblings or cousins or really really close platonic friends, because there's Zero Possibility of Misunderstanding. Compare this to how hesitant Leia is to accept her feelings towards nerd pirate boy, Luke being inexplicably drawn to her from half a galaxy away, and how they're just so open with each other all the time, and I decided I had to fic. (Fair warning: if you're the type to run away screaming in abject horror when faced with an overabundance of italics and/or run-on sentences, please back away now. As for grammar - well, what _is_ grammar, really? Do we know at all? Transient, this mortal world is.)
> 
> Title inspired by Beyonce.
> 
> Reviews are that one sibling that's your best friend in the whole universe.

You find, very soon after you meet him, that kissing Luke is _easy_. 

This surprises you more than it should; certainly, you have never been lacking in affection. As a child, you were always ready to receive a hug or a kiss or an embrace from a loved one – as a teenager and young woman, always prepared to brush a hand against a forehead and grip a shoulder comfortingly, tuck a stray lock of hair out of the way and say _it’s going to be all right,_ blotting out the broken, helpless lives that you see scattered in front of you as a senator in a rotten and Imperial senate with your softsoft smile and bigbig eyes and gentle hands.

But things inevitably change when you are a discarded girl in an imploding, decrepit universe, forced to watch everything that you love – everything that taught you _how_ to love – dissolve into tiny particles of matter in front of your widewide screaming eyes, the words _nostopstopIhavefailedyou_ catching in the back of your throat, choking you until you force them out in a loud and broken _“NO!”_

You find, then, that the heedless embraces and gentle hands and softsoft smiles can’t – _won’t_ – come out, caught behind a wall of _noI’mgoingtoloseyoutoo_ and _strongstrongImustbestrong_ and your own emotional exhaustion, because when you have nothing left but ragged remains to hold yourself upright, there is precious little there to be given away.

And this would be a general rule, attributed to you not only by yourself but also by others ( _Yeah, Princess, you’ll fit right in on this ice ball,_ and you say _Captain, your complete and utter lack of any sort of manners never ceases to amaze me_ and he smirks and points out that at least he was right, that one time, he _does_ amaze you, and you put extra effort into rolling your eyes so as to hide the smile tugging at your lips) –

Were it not for Luke.

It’s strange, really – beyond reason or explanation, that there was never a point where you thought, _now, now we are friends –_ that you just _were_

( _are, will be_ )

and so you find yourself

( _dropping a kiss on his cheek seconds before you swing across the chasm – “for luck,” you say, and miss his surprised grin when you look away to steel yourself for the leap, thinking that you met this boy not twenty minutes ago)_

sitting with him at mess, not bothering to argue when he patiently reminds you that _you need to eat_ , need to put down the datapad for more than two standard minutes at a time, Leia,

 _(tucking the blanket around his shoulders is something you do not think about at all, hand lingering on his shoulder and fighting the impulse to sit down and ask him to_ tell me, please, so that maybe I can share the burden of grief _but that’s impossible and selfish – whose burden would you be sharing, anyway? – and so you simply sit and squeeze his shoulder and let him talk, silent and aching inside but feeling marginally, fractionally better because it feels_ right)

playing sabacc into the early hours of the night, and yes, you do have early morning meetings and five briefings to oversee in less than four standard hours but it’s not like you’ll be sleeping anyway. _And_ , against every ounce of your better judgment, you decide that Captain Solo ( _Han_ , he keeps telling you, _my name is Han_ ) really does have the best liquor on base, contraband and various other legal issues and _didn’t they outlaw that stuff in the Core_ aside.

But he grins and winks, and so you stay. Luke grins at you, too, and says that it’s nice to have so many friends and a small part of you scoffs at him for saying that because,

( _you press your lips against his cheek again, because he is disheartened and half-betrayed and let down and you feel that you are hanging on to a shred of the control you used to have when you tell him, mature and calm, that_ Captain Solo has to chose his own path _and he says_ I wish Ben were here _. Because, you reason, no one should be allowed to go Out There without something to cling to, and this time you do catch his small grin, when you turn back to face him again and you offer a smile in return_ )

because, well, you realize after a certain point that to call Luke a _friend_ would be doing It – whatever _It_ is – a sort of injustice. Friends, you know, are people who you meet, and choose, and make time for (except then, you think of everyone that you now call _friend_ and wonder weakly whether or not your entire understanding of friendship was misconstrued, but _even so_.) _Friend_ is not someone who you feel you have known for longer than you can remember, someone who makes you wonder why you find it so easy to slip an arm around his shoulder, tuck a head against his chest, drop a kiss on his cheek as you wish him good luck on his next mission and feel absolutely, unequivocally certain that _not_ doing so would be bordering-on-abnormal. And

( _that hug, shared with Han and deliriously high on adrenaline and ebbing panic and euphoria and you wrap your arms, still achy from your time with the interrogation droid around Luke’s sweaty neck and find that you are so paradoxically happy you can barely get the congratulations and thanks out of your mouth)_

at first – for maybe all of a standard month – he blushes. You know this, and sigh through your nose and give him an apologetic smile each time the incorrigible captain ( _Han_ ) teases him about it – _Just marry her already, Kid_ – but he shakes his head and tells you it’s all right, he doesn’t mind the teasing, and then blushes a little more.

You don’t think twice before kissing him in the medicenter on Hoth, though, reflexive and deliberate and _safe_ – because you have no doubt in your mind that there is nothing to be misunderstood and, besides which, Han’s ( _you’ve given up clinging to the formalities by now, damn him_ ) smug grin was just about to drive you off the hinge.

You still apologize, later – much later, sitting in the sterile, deserted briefing room on Home One: you say, _I’m sorry, Luke, I never meant to –_ and he grins (nothing of the grin he once wore, twinkling blue eyes and easy tugs of the lips _but at least it’s a grin_ ), lopsided, and replies, _Ah, he had it coming_ and you almost laugh, think that any hint of that bygone blush is now completely gone.

( _Kissing Han, you now know, is different – so_ so _different, all hyperawareness and nerves and hot, swooping sensations and_ damn _him, you were_ not _trembling, but your brain focuses on the way your breath is catching and your fingers are tingling and your pulse is flickering rapidly against your throat. And decide, when you suck impulsively on his lower lip and feel your heart thump all the way into your mouth, like your brain has jumped ship entirely when he makes a small sound at the back of his throat, that that just_ proves _It_.)

( _You’re still not sure what_ It _is_.)

It is only after Bespin, after the horror of having everything and a half taken away from you again and watching Luke, feverish and near-delirious in that cabin bunk with his _hand cut off_ , muttering something about dead mentors and fathers and looking terrified and lost and broken all at once ( _you are the same, but categorically better at hiding it_ ), that you feel two steps closer to the answer, to knowing what that _It_ is, and so you

( _lean over, brush your lips over his without thinking with a soft_ I’ll be right back _when the Falcon lurches, badly, swallow down the tears and sick and scream that are clawing their way up your throat, and think about how you_ heard _him, heard his desperate plea, feeling for a moment as though something in the confused, hysteric muddle that your galaxy has become is finally falling into place_ )

tell _him_ , when he tells _you_ , in the flickering lights of his cabin on the space station, looking as though he wants nothing more than the opposite wall to collapse on him. You tell him that you don’t give two flying _kriffs_ and that he’s your godsdamned best friend ( _still not quite right_ ) and that there is nothing – _nothing_ – that will change that. It is irrational and exaggerated and silly to make such a claim, you know, but you see his new, mechanical hand twitch impulsively and his face crumple and you decide that you actually _do not care_ and hug him fiercely, tightly, to your chest.

When you get Han back you are so ( _shaken, bruised, panicpanicbecausehe’s_ there _butwhatifyouturnaroundandhe_ isn’t) relieved that you wait until you are both securely in his ( _your_ ) cabin before you ( _have a panic attack, breath coming out in gasps and he looks like he’s about to have one too but he says_ I’m not going anywhere, Sweetheart _and you swallow down the hysteria crawling up into your throat and tear your fingers on the twisted metal around your neck_ ) let your back thump against the wall and you slide slowly down to the floor, a small part of you thinking _Luke_ and _where are you going_ and _pleasecomebackcomebackcomeback._

You cannot fault Han for not understanding right then. But you cannot tell him, either, when

( _he’s there in the briefing room and your face lights up and you hug him, because he is_ back _and_ smiling _and now you’re all together again and foolishfoolish Leia, thinking that that makes things right, but it_ does)

he sends you a questioning glance over Luke’s shoulder, looks away awkwardly when your fingers wrap around Luke’s elbow but you _can’t_ tell him because you, you yourself have yet to figure it out, completely.

And then (oh, _then_ ) four years of brushed kisses and tight hugs and arms around shoulders and leaning heads are suddenly gone and you are standing on the bridge in the dark and you still have not registered all the implications of what he’s just told you. You are standing on the bridge, and Luke Skywalker is standing in front of you, and he is saying “ _my sister_ ” and suddenly, suddenlysuddenly, it _makes sense._

So you tell him, looking up at him in the night air and seeing his face, so earnest and pleading and _I have to do this, Leia, please understand, please tell me you’ll understand._ You look up at him and you say

( _I know. I’ve always known, somehow_ )

that he can’t go (not _now_ ), that someone else can do it, so please, please, we’ll find another way.

(Because _It_ is something unthinkable and confusing and _godsgodsgodstheimplicationsand_ you want to scream, sort of, the type of scream that is half-mad and half-drugged with happiness and also _very very confused_ , with your hands twisted in your hair.)

Because ( _because, because_ , all these _reasons_ ).

You _know_.

( _have known, will always know_ )

You kiss him on the cheek before he turns to go, silently begging that he return but not saying anything out loud because he’ll know – know that you’re making him promise, even if you haven’t actually opened your mouth.

 _I can’t promise_ , he almost says, and you almost hate him for it.

( _And then he’s gone_ , and finallyfinally you realize that it is more than just knowing and did he say father and _ohgodsohgodsohForceohgodsheisgoingtodie_ and Han is hurt and confused but you are even more so and so he holds you, quietly, and you cry into his chest and the sounds of the living, breathing forest surround you.)

And then –

( _he’s my_ brother)

 _And then you have won_ , and he is _back_ , and you know what _It_ is and you hug him to your chest once more, _fierce and tight._

 _Brother_ , you think, and notice that his grin reaches his eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> coughs um yeah so that was hella different from my usual style PLEASE TELL ME WHAT YOU THOUGHT aaaaand a lot of it is based on headcanons from other fics but eh it makes sense. ALSO if you're wondering about the summary. WELL. *evil laughter*


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